


Just Be Pretty But Naive

by SquintyCrossbowMan (JacksMedullaOblongata)



Series: Cablepool Chronicles [1]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Cablepool - Freeform, M/M, also ive never written present tense before, dp2 spoilers yooo, lip balm? you bet, mentions of weasel etc but they dont really appear, or as i call it, sorry i'm so bad at writing dp style, summerson, wade has a big ol crush on cable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksMedullaOblongata/pseuds/SquintyCrossbowMan
Summary: Wade is mad.Why? Good question, really. He can’t really explain it himself. It’s a sort of internalised anger at something not-quite-subconscious, dancing at the edge of his thoughts. And fuck, it’s constant. It always zings back into his mind like an annoying fucking earworm, like a shitty radio pop song.Because for some time now, Wade Wilson has been unable to get a certain goddamn man out of his head.





	1. So many secrets, I'm Tom Cruise

**Author's Note:**

> Boyyy I haven't written a fic in what feels like a while. But honestly who came away from DP2 without noticing "handsome", "you remind me of my wife" and every other Cablepool moment ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> That one AU where they all live in the Big House TM. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always so appreciated!!! Also sorry if I get Marvel details wrong lmao, I've only seen the movie once and kinda forget a lot already.

Wade is mad.

Why? Good question, really. He can’t really explain it himself. It’s a sort of internalised anger at something not-quite-subconscious, dancing at the edge of his thoughts. And _fuck_ , it’s _constant_. It always zings back into his mind like an annoying fucking earworm, like a shitty radio pop song. 

He’s angrier than a Wolverine in an ice bath – more pissed off than Negasonic the time he swapped her hair gel for glue the day after April Fools. It grinds his gears – a cliché, sure, but it’s true. 

Because for some time now, Wade Wilson has been unable to get a certain goddamn man out of his head. 

No, not man. Cyborg. Robot hybrid thing. Some kind of twisted amalgamation only someone at Marvel Studios (the ‘Mar’ standing for Metal ARm fetish) could dream up, up there with Bucky. It’s not like Cable is _trying_ to be hot. But honestly, Wade doesn’t exactly have standards. He’d probably get under the sheets with Dopinder and Weasel if he got sex-starved enough. But not anytime soon. Traumatising Dopinder would probably backfire. 

Wade often finds himself daydreaming when he looks at Cable. Maybe the big guy has started noticing. Wade isn’t exactly subtle, taking a very painfully obvious eyeful of middle-aged man-ass whenever he can. The words ‘daddy kink’ pops into his head enough to make hm cringe. He doesn’t have one for sure – but it might be his type, at least a little bit. He’ll give himself that much. He can look and he can marvel and even, if the evening is dark and lonely enough, _imagine_. But that’s the limit, he tells himself. Throwing himself at Cable does have some appeal though, since he can’t die. But not yet. He might have no shame, but at least has some semblance of self-control, as minute as it is. 

This week is no different, he realises. For the entire time he’s been monologuing inside his head, his eyes have been fixed on Cable’s _very_ tempting muscular back. Wade tunes back in. He’s sat watching Cable as the guy assembles his extremely-fucking-awesome weapons. He makes a mental note to steal one. 

But it’s not those guns Wade has his eyes on. From this angle, he can subtly observe Cable. He scans the man with the fervour of a homeowner finding the perfect condo. His eyes travel over the muscles that ripple under the (cotton? Whatever fucking material it is, Wade doesn’t give a shit) baseball shirt Cable is wearing. The tendons that gently flex at his wrists, the curve of his back as he leans forwards slightly to pick something else up. Wade’s eyes travel down nonchalantly as he tries to lie to himself that this scrutiny is purely for weakness research. His gaze drifts over the jeans (“dad jeans,” his treacherous brain shouts) and over that glorious, so-not-fifty ass. 

Cable pauses. Wade is struck with a mild panic and removes his eyes fast, staring at the photo on the wall like it’s Scarlett Johansson in a black leather number. Cable resumes his building. 

_The guy makes guns like it’s a fucking_ Lego _game_ , Wade thinks. He wishes he could, but he’d probably end up blasting a hole in his own dick just trying to load a gun that high-tech. It would be like if someone gave E.T. a shotgun. 

Cable doesn’t even pause or miss a beat as he asks, “Do you need something?” 

Wade jumps like a kid caught with his hand in a bowling ball dispenser. 

“Just wondering where I can get a gun like that. Did you make it yourself? Or just pull it straight from an overcompensating sci-fi comic?” 

Cable shrugs his shoulder such a small fraction that it might have been imaginary. “You aren’t getting one.” 

Wade kicks the doorframe like a petulant child, then swears like a petulant adult. “Worth a shot.” 

Cable finishes what he’s doing and turns around, crossing his arms. They’re taut over his chest, that kind of toned that Wade wouldn’t mind wrapped around his throat from behind, like Colossus’s hands but rougher – skin. Wade’s heart, _damn him_ , it skips a beat. _Must be an arrythmia_ , he thinks. _Sure. A side effect of mutantdom._

Cable’s arms are pulling the baseball shirt tighter across his chest, and Wade _swears_ his mouth only dries because that soft blue material looks _really_ nice, and he wants to know where Cable shops. He tries to keep his eyes at the same level as Cable’s. It’s something he hasn’t practiced often, and he isn’t great at it. 

“You should lend me a gun one day.” 

“No, I shouldn’t.” 

“You really should.” 

“Mm. I _really_ shouldn’t.” 

“You’re such a spoilsport. What happened to sharing, huh? Eye for an eye. Half and half. Isn’t that your thing?” 

Cable doesn’t look impressed, nor does he grace Wade with a reply. Just stands there, five foot eleven of solid metal and man, and all Wade can really see is how good that shirt makes his biceps look. He kind of wants to feel one, but doesn’t dare. He’d come away from the encounter less intact than a teenager at Camp Half Blood. Wait, no, that was the magic kid one. 

“Can you move.” 

It’s not a question, Wade realises as he snaps back to reality, and Cable is almost face to face with him, looking up with a face neutral enough to impress James Bond in that one movie with the naked whipping scene. Wade neatly sidesteps and can’t help but notice how _dense_ Cable is as he passes, shoulder brushing Wade’s chest as he grunts his thanks. 

Wade watches him go, eyes fixed on those shoulders. He leans on the doorway and sighs. 

“Well, isn’t this a Jeff Goldblum-sized pile of dinosaur shit,” he mutters. The afterimage of that shirt is burned into his retinas and is sending an uncomfortable warmth through his blood. _Damn_ , he should work out more and buy baseball tees. 

Wade eventually unsticks his back from the doorframe and goes down the corridor, long after silver Fox McCloud made his way. He finds himself in the kitchen, where Colossus is sitting at the table eating cereal, looking like a Transformer sitting at Sam Wicket – Wicky – whatever the fuck it was, at his table. Negasonic and Yukio are leaving the room, and Wade catches a “hi Wade!” and dark-lipped scowl as they pass through the doorway. 

The man he wants to see, either most or least, isn’t there, and he can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed. He flops into a chair with the elegance of a freshly-shot pigeon and Colossus looks at him with absolutely no surprise at his entrance. Wade glances at his cereal. 

“Lucky Charms? Those’ll turn you Irish. Giant metal Colin Farrell,” he says helpfully. He shudders to add to his point. 

“Just turn TV on, Wade,” is the rumbling reply. He kicks his legs up onto the table, knocking the bowl and milk sideways as he scoops up the remote. 

“Obligado,” Wade says as he clicks the big red power button. The news flashes up. It’s a screen as full of explosions as a Michael Bay wet dream with a scrolling banner screaming “ATTACK ON DOWNTOWN.” 

“Wow,” Wade says as he turns to Colossus. “It’s almost as if that was planned for me to turn on at this time.” 

“We must go,” Colossus says. He nods his head. “I will get Negasonic and Yukio. You, go find Cable.” 

Wade’s heart flutters like a fucking butterfly on crack. He shouldn’t have reacted like that – it’s making him more and more pissed as he pushes away a little thought that whispers _i wonder why that happened?_

He swings his legs down and hops up straight like Mario when Peach has promised him he’ll finally get laid. He motions a hand. 

“Meet you outside in five, big guy.” 

Wade realises he has no goddamn idea where Cable is. And this is an empty school, so it’s absolutely fucking _huge_ , like Bryan Singer’s ego. He runs to his room first to pull on his suit, blinking through the material as he leaves and beelines for Cable’s room again. He skids to a halt outside the door. 

“Hey, Winter Soldier,” he sings through the door. Pushes it open without waiting for a reply. Cable is turning, eyes fixed on his arm as he taps something. 

“Yeah, I heard. Give me a minute.” 

Wade can’t get a reply out because _oh fucking Jesus Mary and Joseph all riding a giant donkey dick_ , Cable has no shirt on and he’s fucking _ripped_ in all the right places. After a short silence, Cable looks up with a slight frown. The tiny crease by his eyebrow would be a good focal point if Wade’s eyeballs weren’t so traitorous. 

“What’re you staring at?” Cable asks, voice rough, before he turns to pull his usual shit on. Wade finds his voice. 

“You look like the Terminator had angry sex with a computer.” 

Was that a fucking _smile?_ Cable turns with a steely face, but Wade could have _sworn_ he had slipped a grin. Maybe the guy had a sense of humour, buried under all the enigma and hotness. He had the snark to match Wade, that was for sure. 

Cable stretches his cyborg arm in a way that makes Wade _really_ wish he could be an artificial limb. 

“You’re fucking weird, Wilson,” Cable says, and he flexes his shoulders as he passes through the doorway. Wade never knew he could get a semi from a pair of shoulders that didn’t belong to Monica Bellucci. 

*

Wade kind of wants to ask Cable if he’d venture into wearing the X-Force outfits. Sure, it’s the X-Men ones that they wear still, but inclusivity calls for a better name. He hasn’t scribbled ‘FORCE’ on every shirt label for no reason, after all. 

Negasonic looks like an angry wasp in her outfit, but that doesn’t mean Cable can’t pull it off. The guy is still wearing monochromes and darks like a highschooler that listens to My Chemical Romance. _Does he even know what color is?_

Regardless, Wade wants to pursue it. He pictures that chest and those arms in a tight spandex yellow-and-black design. _Mistake._

Wade is extremely glad his mask hides his eyes, because he’s staring again, through the corner of his vision. 

Cable is sitting elbows on his knees, leaning forwards, gaze not really looking at anything. Wade feels a dryness in his throat he isn’t used to. The gun on Cable’s back shifts as he sits back, eyes travelling across. Wade keeps his face forwards so it will appear like he isn’t watching incredibly closely. He feels Cable’s gaze on him, heavy and unsubtle, like the man is trying to figure out if Wade is looking back. 

_If his gaze is this heavy_ , Wade’s betraying brain muses loudly, _how heavy would he be on top of me?_

Cable turns away. Wade feels like he’s sweating under his suit. He hasn’t been this hot and bothered since he saw Vanessa in Valentine’s Day lingerie that could barely be called lingerie. 

“Get ready,” Colossus bellows. The big guy’s voice helps to cool Wade a little and he gets back into the _let’s kill some shit_ mindset. He stands at the same time as Cable, the turbulence of landing jostling them into each other. Dear _God_ , he bets this man’s real arm feels as solid as his metal one. Cable glances half an inch in his direction but says nothing, just pulling his gun off his back, giving Wade a magnificent view of his biceps. It’s like a Wolverine gun show. 

“You ready?” Cable asks, both eyes fixed on the hangar door. Wade follows his gaze. 

“Sure.” 

“Then get your fucking sword out.” 

“Take it easy, big fella, that’s something for date number two,” Wade stage-whispers, but he does bring his weapons out. Cable shakes his head. 

“Fucking ... does your mouth ever stop running?” 

“Nope.” 

“Someone needs to shut it for you.” 

“I –” Wade stops halfway through his point about _Origins_ already doing that, but _goddamn him_ , is there an extra glint to Cable’s cyborg eye? He changes track. “You could do the honors.” 

“Nah. You’d just grow your tongue back if I shot your mouth off your face.” 

_Damn, no glint anymore._ Wade shrugs a shoulder like he couldn’t care less. 

“Suit yourself, ’cause I’m gonna keep talking until the studio cancels my sequels.” 

“Your what?” Cable asks, but the door hisses open before Wade can reply, and they’re striding out to face the carnage. It’s mayhem in the street, cars overturned on top of people, fire blazing from windows, screams ringing out from all directions. Wade is incredibly conscious when Cable grips his arm. 

“Colossus reminds you, no killing,” is all he says, and he turns off to the side with Negasonic, leaving Wade frozen. The place on his arm that Cable touched is burning like an impression, sending fire straight down through his body. It’s like if Megan Fox had grabbed onto him. Wade is dragged back to life when Colossus shouts, “behind you!” 

He ducks as a car rockets over his head. Turning, Wade sees a tall asshole in a huge coat, pointing a giant black gun in his direction. The gun in question fires directly at him and Wade is blasted back, skittering over the asphalt like a football kicked across a road. He hits a truck with his back and lands on his hands and knees. Negasonic looks down at him. 

“That looked fun,” she says flatly. She’s chewing gum and brushes a hand through her hair as she takes off running. 

“Don’t swallow!” Wade yells after her. She flips him off over her shoulder. Wade climbs to his feet and shakes the spinal fluid out of his ears. He sees Colossus punch the guy with the big gun and he flies back a few metres, landing on his feet with a grace Wade does not possess. Negasonic charges up and does a dual attack with her girlfriend that makes Wade really wish he had a Yukio-style teammate. By complete coincidence and no nefarious planning whatsoever, he finds Cable next to him, like a godsend. 

“Want to flip off my back like Ant-Man and his girlfriend?” Wade asks. 

“Get behind him. I’ll knock him towards you, and you use this –” 

Cable pushes a gun into Wade’s hands. It’s heavy and thrumming with energy. 

“Wow, I didn’t know it was my birthday.” 

“This is the only time it’s gonna happen, trust me. Listen to me.” 

Cable makes intense eye contact that makes Wade’s next joke die in his throat. “Don’t touch the tip when it lights up. Just point and hold. Unless you want to be out of action for a week.” 

Wade nods. “Don’t touch tips. Got it.” 

“Go.” 

Cable sets off towards the guy and Wade realises he has to match his pace to get behind the Big Gun Guy. He moves with a pace that would impress Keane Reeves’s bus, between cars and bloody concrete, keeping an eye on Cable. 

_God, the guy looks like he’s in his element. Striding through the dust and smoke like he's in a a movie_ – Wade almost trips he’s so distracted by Cable. He starts to notice the little things. The line on Cable’s cheek, a crease when he sets his jaw in a frown, the way his knuckles move as he grips his gun, his – 

_Wow. Those are some pretty gay thoughts. Have I morphed into Tom Cruise?_

Wade shakes it off and positions himself behind Gun Guy. He waves to signal to Cable and the guy just nods, like a fucking soldier with balls of platinum. Wade holds up the gun. It hums under his hands, sending vibrations up his arms through his suit, pleasant and warm. He wonders if Cable feels it in his arms. 

Wade steadies the gun and it makes a rising tone, a blue string of LEDs lighting up. 

“Holy _shit_ , the future is fucking cool,” he says, filing this gun away for Future Jack-Off Ideas. Like Cable had warned him, the tip of the gun begins to crackle with blue light, like a really dangerous taser. Anything that is off-limits immediately tempts Wade, but even he knows it would be a bad idea. He aims the gun as Cable powers up his own gun and the shockwave catapults the guy backwards. He lands directly on the Stun Gun and screams like Keira Knightley. Wade steps back from the smouldering unconscious figure on the floor. 

“Jesus. He smells like Gwyneth Paltrow burned alive in an oven made of plastic.” 

Negasonic approaches and looks at the crumpled body. 

“Gross,” she says. Wade looks at her. 

“My thoughts exactly, Sue.” 

She throws a confused frown his way. Colossus moves past her and picks the man up under his arm. 

“So who is he exactly?” Wade asks. “Is he a guy we should be worried about, or just a nameless villain who moves the plot forwards?” 

“He’s an escaped criminal, dumbass. You’d know if you watched the news,” Cable says from behind him. 

“On a computer, there’s a lot more recreational things to watch than the news.” 

Cable ignores him. Wade hefts the gun and leans to Colossus and whispers, “this is why you don’t touch tips. Take notes.” 

Cable wrenches the gun from his hands. “Hope you enjoyed holding that 'cause you’re not touching it again.” 

Wade looks longingly at the gun, then innocently to Cable’s face. “Is that a gun or your dick? The way you talk about it, I can’t tell.” 

Cable slots the gun back and turns, a look lingering on Wade’s face before he walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Passion for Publication - Anarbor 
> 
> Chapter title from IDWT by Terror Jr. Please don't sue me, Tom. I love you, it's just an edgy joke. 
> 
> Sue: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sue_Perkins
> 
> (I'm used to swearing in my writing but honestly this seems like I need to escalate the NSFW language aspect ?? Idk it's not quite DP enough to me yet … time to try to raise the bar)


	2. Is it chill that you're in my head?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I saw Josh/Cable shirtless, I can't see Llewellyn the same again. SNACC. (Like you don't understand it's midnight as I write this and I remembered how he drinks that beer in the mirror and full on punched myself in the sternum GODDAMMSNW) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and the image I paint of Cable as much as Wade does ;;;);;);;) 
> 
> Sorry it's so talk-heavy, I'm falling back on my usual style of convo fics. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are my life! ;) 
> 
> (forgive me josh)

Cable is sat in the common room when Wade walks in.

Common room. Lounge. Whatever it’s called, it’s a room full of big couches. 

It’s quiet. One a.m. crickets are muffled by the closed windows, the buzz of the TV hushed, on low volume. 

Wade opens the refrigerator and takes out a carton of orange juice. He gestures at the TV, even though Cable can’t see out the back of his head. 

“You watching the news again?” 

Wade’s voice sounds loud and obnoxious in the quiet, even to his own ears. Cable turns his head, expression so disinterested that Wade is actually impressed. 

“I guess I am.” 

“There been a premiere for Infinity War yet?” 

Cable meets his eyes with a bemused scowl. Not breaking the eye contact, Wade drinks directly from the carton. Cable groans, looking away. 

“Don’t be an asshole. We all have to share that.” 

Wade screws the lid back on, savouring the orange flavour like it’s whiskey. He tosses the carton back into the refrigerator and shuts the door loudly. Cable turns his head again. 

“Are you always so fucking inconsiderate?” 

Wade knows it’s rhetorical. He flops onto the couch next to Cable, legs over his. 

“Yeah, I am,” he finally replies. 

Cable pushes at his legs with distaste. When he can’t get Wade to stop moving them back up, he gives up, leaning back with his arm resting on the couch arm. Wade puts his hands behind his head despite it being incredibly uncomfortable on this hard, old seat. 

The news drags on and changes into some kind of live broadcast of a rave. It’s wrapping up, the songs getting more and more exciting as the party reaches a crescendo. 

Cable lifts his back from the couch cushion, leaning forwards and rolling his shoulders. There it is again, that soft exhalation of breath, a sound that sends something tingling down Wade’s spine. Cable settles back like he’s considering staying, but then the rave ends and he seems to lose interest. 

“I’m going.” 

Wade doesn’t move his legs. Cable looks down at the feet on his lap, then across to Wade. 

“Move your legs.” 

“You never say please or thank you, do you?” 

“ _Move._ ” 

“But it’s so cosy.” 

“Not really. You radiate far too much heat to be normal.” 

“My blood is really molten lead.” 

“ _Wilson._ Move before I break your fucking legs.” 

“Who’s inconsiderate now? You can’t even share a couch.” 

“There are five others in this room you could have sat on.” 

“Yeah, but only one had another person on it.” 

He sees Cable’s jaw clench in that way it does when he’s angry. 

“One day, I’m going to hit your fucking shitty avocado face.” 

“Ooh, a threat? I look forwards to it.” 

Cable snorts, a tetchy ‘tch’ sound, and Wade finally moves his legs, watching him stand, eyes particularly focusing on how those gray washed-out jeans make his ass look. 

Cable switches the TV off and tosses the remote down. 

“You should try to fix your shitty sleep schedule.” 

Where he is, face turned down towards Wade, the bright light of the TV screen now off, he’s only lit by a lamp behind him. 

_Whoa_ , Wade’s brain says reverently. _He looks so cinematic._

Who knew a man made half of cold iron could look so … warm. The yellow glow softens the lines in his face and the annoyance in his eyes. Cable’s voice is a lot quieter, a soft harshness, when he speaks. 

“Get some sleep.” 

As he leaves, he adds over his shoulder, “you fucking prick.” 

The illusion breaks. Wade blinks away the dream, reaching over and turning off the lamp. He lies on his back, hand on his chest. 

Cable’s face is seared into his mind. The same ridge of his brow, thin line of a mouth, except less angry. His eyes, black and glittering, mecha side glowing. What Wade would give to look down at that face, much further down than usual – 

_Whoa, there._

Wade’s thoughts drift from Cable’s face to his words. 

_Someone needs to shut it for you._

Had that really been a glint in his eye, or just Wade’s own wishful thinking? Cable doesn’t seem like the flirting type, but then again, he hadn’t seemed like the jeans type until recently. Wade bites his knuckle thoughtfully, considering his options. A slow, painful not-death if Cable isn’t into the idea. Or, if by some Christian Jesus miracle, Cable _is_ into it and he, Wade ‘Captain Deadpool’ Wilson, gets to top a cyborg. That would be a nice trophy for his wall: gruff, serious-as-shit robot from the future, check. Plus, Wade has now committed that soft sound to memory, and _really_ wants to hear it again. He flicks his finger from his mouth, gesturing to himself as he mulls over the possibilities. 

Cable _had_ called him handsome, even if it had been sarcasm. And he had very carefully put lip balm on while comparing Wade to his wife. Surely a man as straight as a rod wouldn’t do that. Plus the future held all kinds of possibilities. They probably manufactured omnisexual blow-up dolls – Wade bets his money that nobody in the future is straight. 

He sits up, Cable’s voice echoing in his head like a non-diegetic soundbite. 

_You ready?_

*

Wade wakes up after midday. He’s sprawled on his front, on top of his sheets purely out of laziness, in a bright pink tank and a pair of gray boxers. In his opinion, it’s a perfectly respectable outfit to walk the house in. Negasonic is coming down the corridor as he exits his room, and her eyes widen a millimeter as she reverses back around the corner away from him. He shrugs it off. _She can’t appreciate simple fashion._

Wade makes his way to the kitchen for a healthy breakfast of Lucky Charms marshmallows drenched in Jack-infused milk. His Crocs creak on the floor as he enters the empty kitchen. 

Bowl in hand, Wade walks back to his room, glancing almost automatically into the open doorway he passes. He chokes on a spoonful of milk. 

Cable is shirtless again, in lounge pants, and Wade’s eyes practically hurt he’s staring so hard. _Is that – oh, god, a sheen of sweat, Cable must have been working out – this is planned cruelty –_

He’s still staring. He has to come up with an excuse quick. 

“Did you sign a contract for a Twilight movie? Put some fucking clothes on.” 

Cable turns. “I don’t remember asking your opinion on what I can sleep in, jackass.” 

Wade is very aware of the milk dripping down his chin and he wipes it away with the front of his tank. He adds, “Your muscles have muscles. What kinds of steroids do you take?” 

“It’s called working out. You should try it sometime.” 

“And abandon Panda Express? I could never.” 

Cable turns his back, pulling on a light gray V-neck, and Wade almost drops his cereal. _Fuuuuuck._ He has to make conversation to distract his eyes. 

“So are you the kind to get that Target merchandise stuff? I like the print boxers. The ones with the little Avengers logos really get my day going –” 

“Shut your mouth and close my fucking door. You’re not watching me get dressed.” 

“But our little chat was going so well –” 

Cable marches over and shuts the door hard in Wade’s face. 

“That’s rude, you know,” he calls, and he can picture the _fuck you_ expression on Cable’s face. Wade’s palms are a little sweatier as he resumes eating his cereal, trying to calm his burning blood. Sitting on his bed, legs spread aggressively wide around his bowl, Wade lets the Jack go to his head. He hopes Cable drinks Jack, because that biting heat in his mouth would sure be nice to share. 

Just the memory is enough to be hard-on worthy. He really should go and be productive and store the image away for later, but Wade has never been a particularly patient man. 

“No,” he exclaims, trying to be a voice of reason for himself. “Save it.” 

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Cable asks as he passes the door, his tone disdainful. Wade grabs his phone and dials a number fast. It only rings a couple of times before he gets an answer. 

“What?” 

There it is, a voice as familiar to Wade as George Clooney’s is to everyone on the face of the earth. 

“I’m dropping by. Get a blowjob ready for me.” 

“Uh, I’m gonna assume you mean the drink,” Weasel replies dryly. Wade can practically hear him pushing his glasses up his nose. He hangs up halfway through something Weasel is saying and pulls on a pair of pants in a very ungainly way, yanking a denim jacket over his tank. 

It doesn’t take him too long to reach the bar, and by that time, the image has faded from his head. Wade kicks his way through the door as unceremoniously as possible and finds his way to the bar, parking himself on one of the stools. 

“So what brings you here, huh?” Weasel asks as he pushes a shot glass topped with whipped cream towards Wade. Wade dances his fingers around the edge before looking around. 

“Is Dopinder not here? I want him to help me with this.” 

“It’s his day off – listen, Wade, why are you here?” 

“Can you help with the drink?” Wade persists. 

“Get your big metal friend to help for all I care, Wade, but you aren’t listening –” 

“Colossus? He’s far too conservative, and imagine putting your face close to his –” 

“I meant that other guy. The good-looking one who looks like he eats car engines for breakfast.” 

Wade is silent for half a beat. He opens his mouth. 

“No, let me speak, asshole,” Weasel interrupts. “Just drink your fucking drink and stop stalling. I know you. You stall for a reason, and you only come here now when you want to cry on my shoulder and piss on chairs.” 

He sounds both like a good-meaning friend and a teacher yelling at Wade for writing ‘dickbutts’ on the table one too many times. Wade takes his shot and almost gets whiplash from how hard he throws his head back. 

“Wow,” he says, putting the glass down and wiping his mouth. “Good blowjob, Weasel. Go a little easy on the Irish cream next time, though. That was like mouthing Liam Neeson’s pot of gold.” 

“Ha ha. Wade.” 

“You know, you’re good at coming up with my descriptions. Tell me some more.” 

“You’re not even subtle that you’re changing the subject at this point, man.” 

“Just one. For me. For old time’s sake.” 

Weasel sighs and puts the glass he’s cleaning down. He stares at Wade for a moment. 

“You look like a hamster was skinned alive and put through a garbage disposal chute and landed in a pile of other dead hamsters. And they morphed and made some sort of horrific fucking disgusting hamster creature.” 

Wade puts his hand on his chest. 

“That was art. I’m touched.” 

“Just tell me what the problem is already.” 

“There isn’t one.” 

“Yeah, and I’m secretly the pied piper.” 

They look at each other for a short time before Wade leans on the counter. 

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Just tell me.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“I’m not telling you about my man-crush on Cable.” 

There’s a brief silence between them. Weasel leans back. Wade looks at him. 

“What?” 

“You just did.” 

“What.” 

“You just told me.” 

“No I didn’t.” 

“I don’t blame you, Wade. The guy looks like a bodybuilder hatefucked a motorcycle.” 

“Yeah, see?” Wade says, but he sounds exasperated, rubbing his forehead. “Ugh. What am I going to do?” 

“Uhhh, tell him.” 

“ _Tell him?_ I –” Wade quietens his voice again, glancing behind him. “Weasel, you fucking ass, I can _not_ tell him.” 

Weasel shrugs. “I can’t suggest anything else. You think I’ve got some fucking ammonia lying around?” 

“I think you mean amortentia.” 

“I think you should shut the fuck up and man-up.” 

“That’s sexist.” 

“Just go tell him, Wade. Stop being so chicken. What can you lose?” 

“Probably my entire torso.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, it grows back.” 

Wade puts his head in both hands. The counter has a little bit of wood grain that looks like Yoshi. Weasel sighs. 

“Go back, Wade, and tell him. You might get a blowjob for your efforts. And I don’t mean the drink.” 

He looks briefly horrified. “Shit, now it’s your fault I have that image in my head. Leave. Go tell that Optimus Prime-Sam Witwicky lovechild how you feel.” 

Wade snaps his fingers. “That was it! Sam Wickwitty!” 

“I – no. Just go.” 

Wade slides off his stool with childish reluctance. He pauses. 

“Give Dopinder my love when he comes back.” 

“Wade, just leave, you coward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist as usual!: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/keeprunningkilljoys/playlist/5s12iVxNhu0o4Cx6VXNEZd?si=Gcw6zYlVSE28FdR2Xo5-Yw
> 
> \- Don't know how you drink a BJ?: https://www.wikihow.com/Make-a-Blow-Job-Shot (but from someone's lap)  
> \- Yoshi wood referencing a door in my house that always looked strangely like Yoshi.  
> \- Chapter title from Delicate by Taylor Swift 
> 
> Oh my god. I love Josh Brolin so much.


	3. I'd rather lay in bed and motherlove myself

It’s five minutes past midnight when Wade ventures back out after shutting himself in his room. It’s not that he isn’t taking Weasel’s advice, just … postponing it. He enters the kitchen and, once again, Cable is there.

That V-neck’s long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, and Wade has never realised forearms could be sexually attractive before. He sidles up and leans on the countertop. Cable flicks his eyes vaguely towards Wade but doesn’t comment. He continues to make the protein shake he’s half done with. Wade points at it. 

“Mix one of those with coke.” 

No reply. 

“Coke as in, _cocaine._ ” 

Cable could have become deaf for all Wade knows, completely unresponsive. Wade slumps slightly. 

“If you want to try it, I can –” 

“I’m not interested.” 

Cable’s voice is that sort of bass rumble that makes Wade shiver like Bella Swan. He shrugs and rests his lower back on the counter. 

“No biggie, big guy.” 

There’s a stretch of silence. Cable slows in shaking the cup, looking over suspiciously. 

“Why are you still here?” 

“What do lawyers wear in court?” Wade asks, looking back. Cable’s brow furrows. 

“I don’t fucking care.” 

“Lawsuits.” 

For a second, Cable stops still. There’s something dangerously close to murder in his eyes. 

“That was awful.” 

He resumes shaking the mix. Wade feels a zing of triumph. He is also extremely glad Cable has one of those shake powders because _fuck_ , does it make his arms look good. Wade starts to consider putting ‘arm kink’ in his Tinder bio. 

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” he replies. 

“Please, no.” 

Cable stops shaking the mix and pours it into a glass. He seems uncomfortably aware that Wade is watching him. His eyes flicker over again. 

“You got nothing better to do?” 

“Not really,” Wade answers brightly, crossing his arms like he wants to stay. 

“No shit, shitbag,” Cable mutters. He picks up the glass, then seems to reconsider, putting it back down with a loud glassy thud. Wade looks at it. 

“Still a no to the coke?” 

Cable sighs, palms planted on the counter, head bowed. He seems to want to be left alone. Wade pretends he can’t tell. 

“Want more jokes? I’m gonna get you to smile one day. Crack that villainous façade.” 

“No, thanks.” 

Even Cable’s neck is toned, Wade realises, and up this close, he can see every tiny detail in the cyborg’s face. Cable turns his head without warning, meeting Wade’s gaze. That robot eye feels as if it’s burning a hole through him. 

_Why is all our eye contact so intense? It’s like it’s pre-planned._

“You gonna move out the way so I can put this back?” Cable asks. There’s a carton of almond milk in his cyborg hand. Wade suddenly wants to be a carton of almond milk, but can’t figure out why. 

Wade pushes off the counter so Cable can open the refrigerator. It’s one of those short ones, so he has to bend down. He looks up as he closes it. 

“I hope to _fuck_ you didn’t drink from this too.” 

“No need to be so hostile, discount Brad Pitt. Don’t worry, I only drink baby cow milk,” Wade replies, like he’s calm, when internally his brain is mentally committing this angle to memory. Cable stands and he remembers, _oh yeah, he’s hilariously short._ The guy’s so top-heavy Wade forgets that _he’s_ the taller one. It’s nice to be six two. It’s like being a leading Hollywood man. 

Cable drinks his shake all in one like it’s a can of beer and Wade can’t tear his eyes away. It should be _illegal_ to drink like that. 

_Where was he taught how to drink, the College of Porn?_ his brain screams. _There is no way in real life someone drinks like it’s such a leisurely thing to do._

Wade wants to sue Cable but his dick wants to thank him. 

The glass lands back on the counter with a hollow noise. Cable is looking at Wade strangely, before he looks back at the empty glass. 

“I’m gonna go wash this, and when I turn around, you had better be fucking gone.” 

“I live here too.” 

“You don’t live in this damn _kitchen_ , though, now do you?” 

Wade finally takes the hint and makes his way to the door, halting as he gets past the frame. He puts a hand on it and faces Cable again. 

“You seriously have to try the coke, though.” 

Cable’s eyes definitely don’t have a friendly vibe as his metal hand tightens and breaks the glass. Wade looks down. “You have to clean that up. Colossus has soft feet.” 

He hears the glass crunch as he exits, wondering if Cable will actually tidy it up. Wade slows his pace as he remembers that odd look Cable had been giving him. _What did it mean?_

Maybe it meant ‘I’m about to tear your throat out if you don’t leave me alone’. Maybe, somehow, it meant ‘throw me over this counter, Wade Wilson’. Or maybe by a one in a million chance, it meant ‘I’m psychic and can hear every fantasy inside your fucking head and I’m waiting to see if you know that I know’. Wade would be impressed if that was what it was meant to say, because to him, it just seems like his own incessant staring is alerting Cable. He silently praises himself for the self-control he’s exercised so far. 

It’s like a library in his head now, lots of little images and thoughts for future reference. Enough memories of Cable wearing less than a full shirt, it probably looks like an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial. 

Wade opens a drawer in his room and takes out one of the many cans he has shoved away and, pulling his Crocs on, he makes his way to sit outside in the cold air. It’s as good as a cold shower but less wet. 

He sits on the grass and thinks of Cable. 

“He’s like David Beckham, but more gray and grizzled,” he says to nobody in particular, lying back, even though it’s colder than Robert Pattinson’s vampire balls outside. The can opens with a cracking hiss and he puts it to his lips, grimacing at the lukewarmth. 

Wade recalls what it was like to look down on Cable’s face like a point of view movie shot, except in a more Fifty Shades scenario in his head. He loses himself in the illusion for long enough that the can tips in his loose hand and spills on him, splashing room temperature beer over his face and chest. He sits up spitting. 

“Fuck!” he hisses, flapping at the tidal wave of beer. He feels like Ewan McGregor in that family drama he never bothered to finish. _Okay, ‘tidal wave’ is probably exaggerating._

A window opens above him and Wade’s sputtering subsides enough for him to hear Negasonic shout “Wade, is that you?” 

“No, it’s the Candyman,” he calls back, wiping his eyes unsuccessfully with his soaked tank. 

“Die quieter, thanks. Some of us want to sleep.” 

She shuts the window and Wade climbs to his feet. He gets bored so easily, like a millennial but less politically correct. It might not be the best time to have a peace treaty with Cable but he figures he might as well try. As Weasel said, anything he loses in a fight will just grow back. Maybe he can pull a Sharon Stone with regrowing ribs. 

Wade goes into the Room of a Thousand Couches. Cable hears him and, without even needing to turn to know, he says, “I swear to fucking Christ, Wilson, I will get the broken glass back out of the trash and force it into your eyes.” 

“Don’t be so sadistic, bud. I’m here for a truce,” Wade replies, with a smile he knows will rile Cable up. The TV isn’t the news, but on a re-run of, strangely enough, Friends. Wade walks across to the couch. 

“Sit down next to me and I’ll twist your foot until you can fit it behind your head twice.” 

“Yikes,” Wade says, taking the next, closest, couch. He watches the screen for a few seconds. “Are you actually watching this?” 

“No.” 

“Then why have it on?” 

“Because it was on.” 

“Put Graham Norton on. I want to see Ryan Reynold’s interview.” 

“No.” 

“You’re right, that would be way too meta.” 

Cable looks both tired and also ready to rip Wade’s spine out his mouth if he speaks again. He swipes his hand through his middle-aged-footballer hair. It’s a movement that conveys restless irritation. 

“This episode is shit,” Wade notes, waving at the remote. “Change it.” 

“What are you, twelve? I’m not watching this for you,” Cable says, almost snappish, like Batman on an off-day. He fixes Wade with a hard stare. “Go entertain yourself.” 

“I would, but the doctor said I’d go blind if I did it too much.” 

“I don’t get how anyone can put up with you.” 

“That’s what my mother said as she dropped me out the hospital window into a trashcan,” Wade responds pleasantly. Cable lets out a brief exhale which just sounds like unbridled pissed-off-ness. He rubs his throat with his flesh hand ( _that sounded so much less nasty in my head_ , Wade shudders). 

“How about a blowjob?” Wade asks abruptly. Cable looks at him with a flash of stunned anger in both eyes. 

“What the actual fuck did you just say to me?” 

“A _drink_ , jerkoff. Your gay panic is about three years out of date. Now you’re racist _and_ homophobic. Did the future go back on progression?” 

“I’m not racist or homophobic, you stupid –” Cable turns his gaze back in the TV’s direction, too aggravated to continue. 

“So it’s a no on the ‘job?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

Cable’s voice is grated out between clenched teeth. Wade stretches leisurely across his couch, watching the smoldering rage in Cable’s eyes. _Is he actually homophobic? Granted, he’s old and white, but that doesn’t mean he would be, since he was probably born in, like, the 2260s. Maybe he’s more gay than he thinks and it fills him with absolute fear, like Ryan Seacrest._

Cable looks at him with a neutral face again. 

“What kind of fucking person calls a drink a … that.” 

Wade sits up like it’s his true calling, like Dennis Nedry figuring out he can hide dino eggs in his prison pocket. He almost comments on how Cable can’t even say ‘ _that_ ’ but instead chooses to educate him, because the poor guy looks furiously bewildered about it, like the time Wade tried to introduce him to Grindr. (“Do they have Grindr in the future?” “Do they have _what?_ ” “Come on, you have to try it.” “What is it.” “I … uh, it’s –” “I’ll say no.”) 

“It’s a shot,” he explains, noticing how closely Cable’s eyes are tracking his gestures. “You put in coffee liqueur, then a half of Irish cream, but keep them separate, ’cause this was made in the racist eighties. And you top that baby off with a shit ton of whipped cream.” 

_And it would come with a cherry for this guy here to take his blowjob shot virginity._

Cable frowns. “That sounds terrible.” 

“No, the interesting part is how you drink it,” Wade adds. Cable sits back, gaze very level. 

“I assume it’s to do with the name.” 

Wade grins. “Smart guy, catching on.” 

“Smartass,” Cable mutters, something flickering in his eyes. 

“You put your hands behind your back like this –” Wade leans forward to show him his crossed hands. “And you lean forward and take the shot with your mouth. Preferably from someone else’s lap.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Uh, how did it get its name again, _smart guy?_ ” 

Cable returns his gaze to Friends like the conversation is over. Wade crosses one leg over other. 

“So, still a no?” 

Cable’s eyes aren’t properly focused on the screen, where Phoebe seems to be trying to get hummus out of her dress. 

“I’ll keep it a no,” he says distractedly. 

There is a long silence where Wade isn’t really looking at anything but Cable and Cable isn’t really watching the TV screen. 

_In a cheap porn, this is the part where we’d make out on a couch and naked-fight our way to the kitchen counter_ , Wade’s brain whispers. Cable turns the TV off. Wade stops himself from saying it aloud, since he can picture himself minus a lower jaw for his troubles. Instead, he chooses the innocent route. 

“So how about that BJ some time?” he asks. Dares to go further with this innuendo like a nine-year-old who’s just discovered what innuendo is. “It’s not just for me. You can also experience it, since you haven’t before. It would probably be nicer than you expect.” 

Cable looks down at him, standing up, and there’s that hint of death in his eyes again, like a big yellow warning sign. 

“I’ll pass. Drop it.” 

Wade is too busy picturing Cable from this low angle climbing onto him to reply. _How much does he weigh? A default two hundred pounds? That metal can’t be light unless it’s just fancy aluminium. Would he even want to get on top?_ Wade looks up at Cable, who’s already gone to get a glass of water. His eyes focus closely on that back, the soft V-neck, the metal climbing his neck. _He seems the power bottom type. God, I’m such a whore in my head. But who can honestly help it when the guy looks like Stephen Lang but hotter?_

Cable is watching him from over by the refrigerator, silently drinking a glass of water. In a briefly non-Wade focalised moment, he turns away and washes the glass without speaking. That slightly pseudo-American voice is getting on his nerves, especially when paired with that trainwreck of a face. And probably the rest of his body – Cable shakes the image out of his head. He doesn’t want the image of an avocado-scarred body haunting him. Even if Wade Wilson had the body of a supermodel, he wouldn’t want it. 

Wade drags himself half out of his imagination and sees a gray shape moving past. 

“You should shower. You’re like an open crate of beer,” the shape says. 

“Join me,” Wade replies distantly. “You could wash off that ash and might actually have some pigmentation under all the gray.” 

“Go to shower, then to sleep, and stop bothering me again,” Cable says, voice shattering Wade’s deep thoughts ( _ha, deep_ ). 

His glowing eye leaves an afterimage trail in the dark room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture Cable drinking like: https://goo.gl/images/n9yTTj 
> 
> Ewan McGregor movie: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1649419/ 
> 
> Thanks to my manager for telling me my co-worker's 'law' joke. 
> 
>  Chapter title from Bea Miller - motherlove


	4. Mess me up, no one does it better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief ref to hanging, just to mention! 
> 
> So many hits already! 400+! I'm blown away by the love you guys have shown! 
> 
> Every word I read means so much and I'm so motivated to keep writing! 
> 
> Ily guys and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

They’re at it again, except Wade is paired with Colossus while Cable heads off with Domino, who he realises he hadn’t noticed at their last fight at all.

It’s not a convenient criminal this time, but an out-of-control mutant. It’s a sixteen year old boy who can build his hands from the ground, absorbing the rocks into huge glove-like forms. Wade feels it is his bones as he watches Negasonic boost in her Pokemon ball of fire and clash with the kid’s crossed arms, sending a ring of dust bursting back from the collision. Domino doesn’t move as half a car flies at her and clips off a chunk of road, buffeting her with wind but not even scratching her. Behind her, Cable lifts his beast-sized gun and fires, breaking the stalemate and forcing the kid off his feet. Negasonic drops behind him, letting Cable catch up with the writhing mutant, blocking a swing with his – Wade doesn’t know what to call it – pop-up yellow arm shield as he kicks out, boot heel catching the kid’s jaw. 

“No killing!” Colossus shouts, and Wade sees the ‘I know’ grimace twist Cable’s face as he draws his leg back and treads on the kid’s hoodie, stopping him from crawling away. He just looks pathetic now, nose bleeding and hair falling in his eyes, scrambling on the sidewalk under Cable’s foot. 

Cable himself looks incredibly bored, glancing up at the sky with a squint, leaning on the kid’s spine hard enough to stop him from moving very far. Wade finds himself wishing he was that kid. 

“Wade!” 

He blinks and finds Colossus shaking his arm. 

“What? Touchy-touchy.” 

“I said your name six times. You are very distracted.” 

The metal giant follows where Wade’s gaze had been pointed, landing suspiciously on where Cable is standing. 

“I was just wondering why I did literally jackshit during that entire three-minute fight,” Wade says, trying to stand in front and block Colossus’s vision. Colossus’s smooth metal eyes drift back to him. 

“Go get collar.” 

Wade sticks his hand in his invisible pockets and slouches back to get a collar, eyeing Cable. Cable is looking back. 

_Eye contact across a battlefield? It’s like we’re soulmates. We’re only missing the slow-motion._

Cable looks away back down to the kid, who has given up by now, and is lying on his front, appearing tired. Wade snatches up a collar and clambers his way across the debris and rubble. 

“Fucking – uneven floor – who even cleans up when the city is blown up like this?” he says to himself, making a very conscious effort to not trip up. 

“You look in your element,” Negasonic quips. Wade holds a hand up. 

“Stop right there, Emo Ellen. I’m the only one who gets to say things like that.” 

She rolls her eyes and watches him try to climb like a broken-legged baby goat. Cable is also watching him struggle. 

“You’re taking your sweet fucking time,” he says dryly. 

“Only for you, handsome,” Wade answers breathlessly, almost there. He feels like an octogenarian ballet dancer. Colossus is still where Wade left him, so he clearly had an ulterior motive getting Wade to grab a collar. _Probably to show me up as a fool climbing this shit._ The kid is also watching. He glances up at Cable. 

“I thought you guys were meant to be, I don’t know. Good at your job. Your boyfriend looks ridiculous.” 

“Shut your mouth,” is Cable’s unaffected response as he presses his foot down, drawing a squeal of pain from the kid. 

“Yeah, it’s fuckbuddy, actually,” Wade calls, and Cable’s eyes darken as Domino glances at him with a raised eyebrow. He glances back at her with a ‘ignore him’ expression. Wade finally reaches them and clips the collar onto the kid. 

“I thought you were fit,” Domino says, regarding how horrendously out of breath Wade is. 

“Hey,” he says, having to pause to pant between words, one finger up. “I just had to cross the Sahara sidewalk of death. Be glad I didn’t break an ankle. You’d have to carry me Superman-style.” 

He bends over, hands on his knees. “Whoa. I feel like John Goodman circa 2008 taking a walk to the refrigerator.” 

Domino claps a hand on his shoulder as she passes. “Yeah, you should try a go on a treadmill sometime.” 

She strides over the problematic rubble with so much ease she looks like a fucking fairy. Next to Wade, Cable hauls the kid up by the shirt, taking hold of the collar. Wade stares at it. 

“I don’t miss that.” 

“What, you wore it in the bedroom?” the kid asks, choked off with a very unattractive ‘guck’ sound as Cable pulls on the power-blocking collar. Wade straightens up. 

“Actually, no, he did,” he replies, noticing the spark in Cable’s eye. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he says, dangerously quiet, as he passes. Wade is left standing with Negasonic and Yukio. 

“Good job,” Negasonic snarks. “You flirted your way to a deathwish and also proved your cardio health is shit.” 

Wade puts a finger to his mask. 

“Shhh, pocket-sized lesbian. I’m an elder so you should use respect.” 

“I will when you deserve it,” she tosses back as she and Yukio move off, leaving him with a bright “bye Wade!” 

“Come back, Wade,” Colossus calls across. “We must go home.” 

It takes just as long and a few slips that makes scenes from _127 Hours_ flash before Wade’s eyes. Colossus catches his arm as he reaches the safe end of No Man’s Land. 

“You did so well, I’m proud,” Negasonic says, in a tone so flat it’s practically concave. 

“Bite me, Nanoscopic Teenage Warhead,” Wade retorts. 

Everyone splits up when they reach the house again. 

“See you when we next cross paths,” Wade says in his friendliest voice to Yukio. Negasonic flips him off. He switches his attention to her. “Tell her I love her hair. It reminds me of Babymetal. Is it racist to say that?” 

“Shut up already,” she answers, middle finger up still. 

“You should trademark that gesture if Star-Lord doesn’t beat you to it.” 

“Stop talking to me.” 

“I love you too, Teenage Mutant Negasonic Turtle.” 

Colossus passes by with the mutant kid in hand. 

“Strange how I’m always seeing you guys one by one,” Wade notices, scratching his chin. “It’s like it’s to give me enough time to talk to each of you separately and pine for Cable.” 

“He wants to cooperate,” Colossus answers, motioning to the kid, who is walking quietly. 

“That’s great, Iron Giant. I’m gonna go make good use of the A &F catalogue inside my head.” 

“I do not need to know that,” Colossus says with mild revulsion. The kid leans round him. 

“The what?” 

“None of your business, kid. Do you even get a name?” 

“It’s John, douchebag.” 

Wade waves a hand. “Okay, ‘John’. Bye-bye. Run along with the Stainless Steel Hulk.” 

Cable hasn’t hung around so Wade figures there was no reason for him to stay outside for so long. He beelines for the house, pushing his way through the big wooden doors with the goal of grabbing a beer and catching another well-timed eyeful of cyborgian muscle. Unfortunately for Wade, Cable seems to have had the same idea, as he is closing the refrigerator as Wade enters the room. He has two beers in his hand and tosses one across, which Wade barely catches against his chest. 

“How did you know I wanted one?” 

“When do you not?” Cable replies, biting the cap off his bottle. He’s peppered in gray concrete dust from the brief fight, streaks down his arms, a couple of strands of his hair hanging over his forehead. Wade almost gets a hard-on just looking at him. Cable’s eyes stay on Wade’s as he takes a slow draught from the bottle. He lowers it. 

“We should all pitch in and get you a gym membership for your birthday.” 

Wade laughs as he reaches up to take his mask off. “Waste of money, Sin City. I’d rip it up and go back to Taco Bell.” 

Cable’s face suddenly hardens and he swings his fist before Wade can react, the metal hitting him squarely in the gut. The bottle lands with a clink and rolls a few meters, spilling in a puddle. Wade’s back hits the wall and he slides down onto his knees, coughing. 

“Oh my god,” he says, barely more than a croak. “I think you just ruptured one of my lungs.” 

“It’ll heal, don’t be such a bitch.” 

Cable stands over him, taking a casual sip of his beer, looking like the Ultimate D-Bag if he just switched the beer for an apple. Wade holds his middle. 

“I’m pretty sure you combined my spleen with my stomach.” 

“Get up so I can hit you again.” 

“What for? Oh, yeah. The death promise.” 

“Yeah. Get up.” 

“So …” Wade begins to climb up painfully, “all that beer stuff, was that fake friendship?” 

“No,” Cable says, bringing the bottle back up to his lips. “I just forgot for a moment.” 

“Must be your aging brain –” Wade can’t finish his sentence because Cable smashes the half-empty bottle into his head. 

“Mother _fucker!_ ” Wade shouts, falling back. He can feel the glass in his face through the material and the warmth pouring down his neck. “Why do you even – want to kill me? Fragile masculinity? Internalised homophobia?” 

“I’m sick of your shitty attitude, Wilson. You can look like a fool in front of everyone, running around like a jackass in front of civilians, but you always drag me into it when I’m trying to do my job.” 

“I thought your job was killing children –” 

Cable pulls Wade’s mask off, throwing it over his shoulder, before taking hold of Wade’s face with his metal hand and tightening his grip. 

“My job is to stop the world from falling apart before my time, you _fuck._ Anyone one of these troublemakers could be the next Russell and I don't need you fucking around like a dumbass six year old.” 

Wade pulls on Cable’s wrist with both hands so his skull doesn’t collapse. The hand isn’t shifting, digging the glass into Wade’s skin further. 

“Who sat on your face and ruined your day?” Wade manages to ask. Cable lets go and he drops to the ground, gasping. 

“You did, actually,” Cable says, walking a few paces away and picking up Wade’s bottle. He checks it before drinking the rest, eyes following Wade as he stands up. Wade leans on the counter and points shakily. 

“Indirect kiss,” he says. 

“Careful, unless you want to be pulling teeth from your stomach.” 

Wade snorts. “‘You did’. This universe only has a limited space for one-liners, and I’m the only one who can give them.” 

Cable puts the bottle down and shakes his head. “I’ve seen a lot in my time and that coming towards me was probably one of the worst, asshole.” 

Despite his pain, Wade snorts, finding it funnier than Cable is. “Yeah, I’m sure. Red rocket coming your way.” 

“Red what?” 

Domino is standing in the doorway. She looks from Cable, who is his usual stoic self, to Wade, who is using the counter to stay upright, then down to the smashed glass on the floor. She sighs. 

“He started it,” Wade exclaims. Cable doesn’t react. 

“I’m sure I don’t want to know, but make sure you clean it up. Colossus –” 

“Has soft feet, I already said that.” 

“Calm down, Red. Nobody’s threatening your comedy routine.” 

She turns and leaves them. Cable slicks his hair back with his human hand. He steps over the glass. 

“You can do it. You caused it.” 

“Aw. You didn’t kill me though. At least choke me if you aren’t a coward.” 

“ _Yet._ And I’m not satisfying your sick fantasies. You want someone to choke you? Go string yourself up.” 

“Whoa. Too far. Death by autoerotic asphyxiation jokes aren’t funny.” 

Cable mutters under his breath as he leaves. 

*

It takes Wade a full hour and a half to clean up all the glass shards and then pick the rest out of his face. He takes the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and drinks from it as he makes his way to his room, unsure whether he wants to sleep or draw on his mind catalogue and exercise his hand to spite Cable. As he goes down the corridor, Cable’s door is half closed. Wade checks inside. Cable isn’t there. He glances back down the corridor before pushing open the door and walking in. 

It’s amazingly boring. A neat bed, guns on a table, his daughter’s bear next to his vest-belt thing by the wall. Wade puts the carton down and opens a drawer. Nothing. 

_What a seriously dull man. No Playboy magazines, no weed. Not even a pack of Trojans._

“Boring,” Wade sings under his breath as he opens each drawer. He pauses at the last drawer. At the back of one, underneath six packs of bullets and a Magnum .380, he digs out an ID. _Wow. This was put here like I wasn’t supposed to find it._

It’s like an ID but a little more futuristic, a picture of Cable looking the same as now, a gray Stallone. Wade’s eyes widen, his hand pausing where he was reaching for the carton. 

“Did I give you permission to come in?” 

“You didn't lock the door, so technically, yes,” Wade says. He finds the ID taken from his hand. Cable frowns, but it’s less anger and more suspicion. He pushes it into a back jeans pocket. 

“You’re like a fucking cockroach. I could kick you until you couldn’t breathe and you’d still find a way to irritate me.” 

“There are probably nicer ways to stop me from speaking, _Nathan._ ” 

Cable shuts his eyes like he’s counting silently to ten. His jaw works like he’s trying to figure out something to say instead of breaking Wade’s nose. 

“Did you touch anything else?” he asks, opening his eyes, and Wade sees them flicker towards the bear. 

“Nothing except all the drawers in here.” 

Wade rolls the name over his tongue. “Nathan is a very modern name. You’d think we’d have more Cyraxes and Janices in the future.” 

“Why did you have to come in? You have no self-control, do you?” Cable asks, mildly incensed. 

“I mean, you’re standing between me and the door, so I can’t exactly leave. And your room is cleaner than Jennifer Lawrence’s stage image.” 

“You can leave.” 

Cable moves aside, crossing his arms. Wade doesn’t budge. 

“You know, I think Cable is a very obvious fake name. You’re clearly a Nate.” 

It seems to irk Cable, who just quietly replies, “Like Deadpool is any more convincing, _Wade_.” 

It’s the quiet that signals imminent danger. Wade considers his chance at continuing the conversation, but something dark burning in Cable’s eyes puts him off the idea. 

“I’ll leave you to it, Buchanan. I have an appointment with Mr. Hand and Mr. Yank.” 

“Just get out already.” 

“I feel like you say that to me a lot. You have a lot of demands and don’t really do anything in return.” 

“I let you keep your bones the way they are another day.” 

“Alright, Heigl. I’ll leave you and your vanilla room alone. Get some posters up. You heard of pin-up?” 

“I have a wife.” 

“ _Had._ You aren’t seeing her anytime soon, so she won’t know. You can even have a poster of Madonna up if you want. Or, you know. Ryan Gosling, if you’re into that.” 

“Who?” 

“The inferior one,” Wade says as she scoots out of the room. He catches a fleeting glimpse of Cable’s eyes following him as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Nathan Summers,” he says out loud appreciatively. 

“Who’s that, your highschool boyfriend?” Negasonic asks as she walks past him. 

“Why are you _always_ there when I talk to myself out loud?” 

“Most people think instead of talking out loud like they have a constant audience.” 

“Where’s Yukio? She’s oddly nicer than you.” 

She shrugs. “Opposites attract, I guess.” 

“Paula Abdul. Classic choice, Negasonic the Teenage Witch.” 

A blank stare. 

“You’re so young. Stop making me feel so old.” 

“Whatever, gramps.” 

He flips her off before she can get her hand up, and his loud ‘ha!’ is extremely obnoxious, warranting a double bird as she turns the corner. 

_Nathan_ , Wade muses as he lands on his back on his bed, _is not a bad name._

It’s a name he can imagine himself saying in less innocent situations than this. 

He admits to himself, it might not be innocent for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Superman ref: http://cdn.collider.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/dc-comics-crisis-on-infinite-earths-cover-superman-supergirl.jpg 
> 
> NTW's nicknames cred. my sister (pocket-sized lesbian and Nanoscopic TW) 
> 
> I did zero research on mutants so whoops my bad if John / someone similar exists in the Marvelverse.


	5. Stay with me and be a ghost tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh spoilers for Rocky Horror Picture Show? 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a little longer! The hits have doubled last time I checked and you don't believe how insanely grateful I am! I'm so glad more people love these assholes as much as I do. Kudos and comments feed me my life essence! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Wade wakes up energetic and half falls out of his bed he’s up so fast. His Adventure Time watch shows him it’s ten past nine in the morning, earlier than he’s gotten up in probably months. He hears the click of a door down the hall and tries to draw on his psychic Xavier powers to discern whether Cable ( _Nathan_ ) is going in or out of his room. _The power comes from the baldness, right?_

He waits for an entire twelve seconds before giving up and opening his own door. The corridor is empty, which doesn’t help. 

His face is long healed from the day before and his stomach has realigned itself, but he still feels bruised inside. A good remedy, he tells himself, is a bit of coke and an ice cold Evil Cousin. Neither, he knows, are within the vicinity of this house. Beer doesn’t have much appeal. He decides to search for vodka and something to mix it with to dull the ache inside his stomach. 

Cable, of course, is already in the kitchen when Wade gets there, like he fucking lives there. 

“Why are you always here when I am?” Wade asks, stopping directly in the doorway. Cable is drinking a smoothie that looks like it would be a threat in the animal kingdom, a bright poisonous green. He lowers the glass. 

“Same to you.” 

Wade fixes his eyes on the smoothie like it’s a weapon. “You should be drinking that out of a mason jar. I bet it’s all kale and kiwi and Hulk sperm.” 

_Another Hulk joke. I need to be more original._

“It’s good for you, but it’s not like you’d drink it. Your body would probably reject it.” 

“You know, I pegged you for the type of guy who’d be into carb workouts, not the whole health freak thing. You’re like an old colorless Joaquin Phoenix.” 

Cable just drinks from his blended Shrek smoothie again. Wade silently wants him to drink it like the protein shake, see that upturned curve of his throat again. 

“What’s your go-to then, huh?” Cable asks, putting the glass down temporarily as he takes off his weirdly plain yet futuristic blue hoodie. Wade’s brain draws a blank, like a Windows error screen. Cable is wearing a sleeveless black tee which should be _criminal_. Wade is pretty sure a SWAT team are about to bust the door down and arrest him for his thoughts. They’re so filthy he surprises himself. 

“I asked you a question.” 

He wrestles his brain back from the pits of porn to see Cable looking at him, hoodie slung over his shoulder, smoothie back in hand. Wade’s mouth is uncharacteristically dry as he fights to find words. 

“I … what?” 

“Your go-to, dumbass. How you start your day. I’m willing to bet my fucking ass it involves alcohol.” 

Wade wishes the bet was actually real. He regains composure by comparing the color of the Pretentious Smoothie to the Jolly Green Giant’s ballsack. 

“Of course it does. Nothing like something hard to begin your day,” he fires back, trying to pretend he isn’t sweating down his back, condemned to the base of Hell the second Cable took that hoodie off. Cable’s brow raises slightly. 

“But mostly if I’m in pain,” Wade adds for good measure. “You punch like Thanos. I can still feel your knuckles in my ribs.” 

“Boohoo, princess. You asked for it.” 

Wade opens his mouth to say, _no, John did_ , but then Cable does the thing where he finishes his drink as he turns back to the sink, and heat shoots through Wade’s blood southward. It’s too early in the morning for this. He abandons the idea for a vodka and retreats to his room, calling up Weasel again. 

“Help,” he says the second it picks up. There’s an extremely short pause. 

“What?” is the helpful response. 

“I can’t tell him, Weasel, but he’s a fucking _tease_. Can I please, _please_ , live with you for a while?” 

“Uh. No.” 

“Or with Dopinder. Is he there? Put him on the phone, I miss him.” 

“Wade. Listen, Wade –” 

“Dopinder! Buddy! You there?” 

“Wade, fucking shut _up_ , you’re being a baby.” 

Wade shuts his mouth. Weasel sighs. 

“Look. Have you managed to do anything?” 

“I, uh …” He rubs a hand over his face before saying cheerfully, “I found out his name. And hit on him until he threatened my life.” 

“Huh. That’s not a great start.” 

Wade checks his door is closed before continuing, “What am I gonna do?” 

“You said he’s a tease, right? So maybe he can kinda tell and you have nothing to lose in just going straight to him and telling him.” 

“You keep saying ‘tell him’ like it’s easy, but what the fuck would I say?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t have the same problem. Just tell him you want to bang him.” 

Wade, for all the time he’s had a dirty mouth, can’t get words out. 

“Wade, either do it and keep me out of it, or don’t, and also leave me out of it. I don’t want to know about your guy problems.” 

“You’re my friend, so you’re obligated to listen, even as I overshare.” 

“As much as Kristen Bell,” Weasel agrees. He says something to someone else, the phone crackling as he covers it with a hand. Wade tries to keep the fresh image of Cable’s sleeveless arms from his head as he figures out his choice of words. 

_‘Hey, Nathan. This is a little sudden but would you be up for a bedroom brawl?’ No, that isn’t right. The guy will probably literally fight me. Maybe I should text ‘u up? ;)’ at random. Or an eggplant. Maybe they don’t have sexting in the future. Oh god. Maybe it’s all they have._

“Sorry, that was Dopinder. Wade, you still there?” 

“Yeah. I’ll figure out. Call you if I get killed.” 

“I don’t think –” 

He hangs up and drops the phone next to him on the bed, turning over and lying flat on his face like teenage Miley Cyrus. His door opens and he doesn’t bother to move. 

“That’s not a flattering angle,” Domino says. He doesn’t reply to try and hint for her to leave. She doesn’t. 

“Red.” 

He rolls over. “You ever consider I might want some alone time?” 

“You have hours of other time as alone time, liar,” is her swift reply and he finds himself touché-ing silently. She leans on the frame. He waves a hand. 

“Shoo.” 

“No, I’m good, actually,” she smiles. 

“Why? Leave. Please.” 

She looks at her nails like she gives a shit about them. “Huh, but it didn’t look like you were doing much before I came in.” 

He sits up. “You never come in, so excuse me for being a little bit confused, spyglass.” 

“Spyglass?” 

“The bit around your eye is like – when you put a telescope to your eye and it’s got …” He gestures vaguely. “… The ink.” 

She regards him with an unimpressed poker face. “That wasn’t your best joke.” 

He hangs his head. “Fuck.” 

She looks back out into the hallway before turning back. “So, Cable.” 

Wade goes very cold and still, like Han Solo in one of the Star Wars movies. They all seem to blend into one to him. Domino isn’t blind and visibly sees him tense up. 

“Am I right thinking I hit right on the money?” she asks with an edge of triumph to her voice. He shakes off the shock. 

“No,” he says, unconvincing even to himself, and judging by her expression, Domino feels the same. Wade changes tack. “What about Cable?” 

She shrugs a shoulder, twisting a strand of hair thoughtfully. 

“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “He’s kinda cute, yeah?” 

“I don’t think cute is a word to be used anywhere near someone who looks like they’re made of metal and dirt.” 

“What word would you use then?” 

“What _word_ …? Fucking …” _Hot. Uhhh. DILF. I can’t say any of these out loud._ “… Overcompensating.” 

“Huh,” is all Domino says. Wade shakes his head. 

“You’re too young for him. And he has a future wife, remember? Sometime in the future, I think. Did he specify? I can’t remember.” 

“Um, I’m not interested in him. I’m just making conversation.” 

She shuts the door behind her, leaving Wade more confused than he’s comfortable with. He feels like Lindsay Lohan’s career. He wants to call Weasel but he knows he’ll get the whole ‘confess your feelings’ spiel, which is Weasel’s way of getting Wade to leave him alone. He wants to go get a drink of ( _fuck Cable, he just knows everything, doesn’t he?_ ) something hard without bumping into that walking hard-on magnet. Hopefully, Negasonic will be conveniently there like she always seems to be. Or Colossus – _wow, he hasn’t appeared for like, five and a half pages,_ Wade realises. He forces himself to brave the outdoors. It’s only just two minutes past ten, Cartoon Network tells him. Maybe too early for a drink, even for his liver. 

_Maybe I should take after buff Jared Leto and drink my soul away in vegetable liquid_ , he thinks as he looks around his door like Jeff Goldblum checking for danger. _Phew, no dinosaurs. Dinosaurs being a certain man whose name rhymes with … shit, nothing rhymes well with Nathan._

“Why are you poking your head out like you’re sneaky?” 

Wade jumps half a foot off the floor. Negasonic is standing behind him and he can tell she’s trying so hard to not laugh. Her deathly neutral face is a clear giveaway. 

“Because I am. Ever heard of Sly Cooper? My childhood idol.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” 

“Can you tell me if Cable’s door is open?” Wade asks abruptly. She has her taken-aback yet still sullen-teen face on. 

“Why?” 

“Because I can’t see through the back of my head, smart-ass.” 

“No, why _his_ door?” 

“Because I think he’s in love with me and I’m too shy to confront him,” Wade whispers sarcastically. She rolls her eyes like a movie teenager and looks over his shoulder. 

“Nope,” she says, “all clear.” 

With that, she turns to go back down away from him. 

“Why are you literally always in this hallway but you never go to the kitchen? Do you not eat?” Wade calls at her back, turning away. “What, do you live off light and _oh my god_.” 

Cable is standing right behind him. 

“Have fun with your confrontation,” Negasonic Teenage Traitor shouts from somewhere out of sight. 

“What bullshit are you saying about me now?” Cable asks, crossing his arms low across his chest, but Wade’s entire brain dictionary vanishes and is replaced with the words _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ – 

“I –” he manages. Cable cuts across. 

“No point in lying, genius. I heard everything.” 

There is definitely something in his eyes that Wade doesn’t like. A strange sense of knowing, or … is Cable just messing with him? _There’s no way he could have heard Domino talking to me, I could see in the corridor behind her. He has to be bluffing, right?_

Cable looks at the ceiling with the slightest hint of a smile in his eyes, like he’s bored waiting for Wade’s reply. 

“I,” Wade says, voice steady like it isn’t slightly panicked lying, “am trying to drive you out. You're stealing the limelight.” 

“You’re trying. To drive me out. And you don’t think, at your level of obnoxious, it would have worked already if I couldn’t put up with it?” 

“Everyone has a breaking point.” 

“You’re not going to break mine.” 

Cable leaves Wade in the corridor with a ghost of an eye-smile and burning humiliation. 

*

Wade is lying upside down on the couch closest to the TV, legs across the back of it, feeling the blood rush to his brain. 

His method of drowning himself in shitty old movies is working and he’s moved past the realm of Shit to Cult. He pushes aside a copy of The Goonies and slots Rocky Horror into the DVD player. Nothing like a little Susan Sarandon and leather lingerie to take his mind off of things. His head starts to fuzz and he sits up, still sprawled on the couch like it’s his final resting place. 

“Took my seat, you ass.” 

Cable nudges him with a knee. _‘Nudges’ is a little light_ , Wade thinks, _he practically kicked me._ He moves along with faux reluctance. 

“Stop complaining.” Cable replies, but he overall seems good-natured, or as good-natured as his taciturn, surly image allows. It quickly changes as he registers the movie on the screen. “What is this?” 

It’s not much of a question and more a thinly veiled insult of the classic gem. Wade gives him a scathing look. 

“You’re too old to get it.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not that much younger than me.” 

“Maybe in real life, but in this universe, I am.” 

“What?” 

“Just wait until Frank comes in,” Wade says, focusing on the TV. In reality, he isn’t watching the screen at all, instead feeling extremely aware of how close Cable is sitting next to him. He can feel the height radiating from Cable’s arm, the real one, and it’s taking all his self-control to keep his eyes on Brad and Janet. It’s not the black sleeveless one from earlier, but a muscle shirt, a dusty mauve which is probably the most color Wade has seen him in. It’s offensive how much he wants to stare. 

Cable gets up wordlessly, walking behind the couch. Wade hears him open the refrigerator and the telltale _tink_ of aluminium knocking together. The refrigerator closes. 

Something hard and cold and beer-shaped hits Wade squarely in the back of the head. 

“Ow! Jesus!” 

“Oh, did I not ask you out loud?” Cable asks, cracking open his beer and watching Wade clutch at his head. 

“No, you did fucking _not_.” 

Wade picks up the beer. “It’s probably going to explode now.” 

“What a pity.” 

“I’m gonna open it and aim it at your metal arm and see how you like a rusty joint.” 

“Do that and I’ll drop you.” 

Cable sits back down heavily, like he’s tired, and Wade can’t stop his brain from saying, _oh my god his leg is touching mine_. Cable shifts over a little, away from him, but only by about half a centimeter. He drinks from the can. On screen, Frank is singing to Rocky. Cable frowns. 

“Was his hair fashionable?” 

“The blonde one or the one with drag queen makeup?” 

“First one.” 

“Uh, no, never. I think a whole group of British guys had the same haircut in the ‘60s but it always looked fucking awful.” 

Cable’s response is a deep ‘hm’ as he drinks again, and that ‘hm’ sends Wade’s brain into overdrive. _No, Wade. Calm down. You aren’t a Netflix teen girl. You’re a fully grown man who’s losing it over another fully grown man. You can handle this._

Wade turns to Cable as Cable turns to him and Wade’s brain is blindsided by the image of … he can’t tell, but it involves making out and heavy petting. Cable frowns. 

“Why are you staring me like that?” 

“Uh – hhh,” is Wade’s intelligent, coherent reply. He tries to open his beer and it foams out onto his hands and the couch. _That’s some accurate imagery._

Cable moves a half foot away to avoid the beer cascade. “Fucking _idiot_.” 

He stands up. “You’ll have to clean that shit up by yourself. ‘Night.” 

Wade’s hands are dripping with beer and shame. _Wait, why shame?_ He doesn’t give a shit what Cable thinks. The guy can’t see into his head, so Wade’s imagination is safe and sound, like that one Taylor Swift song. 

On the TV, Frank and Brad are doing something that Wade wishes he could be doing right now. 

_God. I'm a mess._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Evil Cousin': http://hereticbrewing.com/beers 
> 
> What Cable is wearing: http://www.asos.com/new-look/new-look-sleeveless-t-shirt-in-black/prd/9443988?affid=14173&channelref=product+search&mk=abc¤cyid=1&ppcadref=761030380%7C39786596803%7Caud-108719242581%3Apla-443335907979&_cclid=v3_25ce4f72-67b1-53a2-9958-5e95dd244179&gclid=CjwKCAjwur7YBRA_EiwASXqIHI5U0V4P6jLluy6bpD3D1wkrFyw6LQUEPJwK2VWWG0c6oSGNZRAkqhoCJXoQAvD_BwE 
> 
> Chapter title from Editors - Cold (as always these songs are all in my Spotify playlist!)


	6. Silence and patience, pining and anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end of this fic now, but not the series yet! Jayswing96 gave me the great idea of switching the POVs in a separate Cable fic ... so that's what I'm gonna do ;) (thanks again for the idea!)

Wade knows it isn’t something dumb like _love_ that he’s feeling. Love is what he felt – _feels?_ – for Vanessa. Love is what he feels overall in a sappy way for X-Force. Love, he finds in the bottom of drinks at Weasel’s bar, when he’s six units down and getting pally with everyone, or for when he sees press photos of Hugh Jackman.

Love is not something he has considered feeling for _Nathan Summers_. But it’s not _just_ carnal, either. Sure, most of his attention is spent appreciating Cable’s fuckability and having spikes of wanting a one-off. Yet it doesn’t seem to _entirely_ be that aspect. It’s a difficult situation. 

Wade knows for sure he doesn’t see Cable the same way he saw Vanessa, but he doesn’t just want a fuckbuddy, even though that would be a pretty nice setup. Vanessa was engagement, kids, a matching fire, softness and love. Cable is diesel and rough edges, unreturned secret glances, an ass to kill for, but … 

Wade kicks the bar counter. _Is there a word for not-quite-love?_ He picks up his phone and searches it. He clicks on an article without much hope. 

‘Pre-love’, it tells him. He pauses. _That actually isn’t bad._

“Don’t kick that again,” Weasel says, giving him his drink. Wade swings back in the stool, far enough it looks like he’s about to fall. Dopinder catches him and Wade pulls himself back onto the middle of the stool. 

“I’m not drunk yet, bud. But thanks.” 

“No problem, Mr. Pool.” 

_Scratch that. Love extends to Dopinder, too._

Wade lets out an excessively loud sigh. 

“Let me guess,” Weasel says flatly without even turning. “Cable.” 

“Uh, no. I’m tired of waiting for the next season of Stranger Things.” 

“It is a good show,” Dopinder agrees. 

“No, he’s lying,” Weasel says, leaning on the counter. “Wade, I’m going to ban you from coming here and calling me until you just say something.” 

“So I can talk to Dopinder?” 

“He’s off limits too until you stop being such a fucking pussy.” 

“Ouch, Weasel.” 

“Sorry, what’s this about?” Dopinder asks. 

“Wade is too much of a coward to talk to Cable. You remember him? Guy who looks like –” 

“– The brundlefly metapod mixed with a supermodel,” Wade interrupts. Weasel shrugs. 

“Okay, yeah, I guess. The guy who threatened my life, which everyone seems to have forgotten.” 

Wade downs half of his drink in one go. “Well, he wasn’t the real villain, was he? He was a red herring.” 

“I –” 

Weasel can’t finish, because something blasts the wall inwards. 

“Can _one_ chapter go by without some generic bad guy attacking us?” Wade asks, catching his drink and covering the top as dusty chips of wood fly at him. Dopinder and Weasel both get out of the way. Wade sees who it is. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Juggernaut is in the doorway he has created in the wall like a huge Kool-Aid Man, but angrier. 

“It’s him!” Dopinder screams. 

“Who?” Weasel asks, his voice volume a lot lower but the pitch far higher than Dopinder’s. 

“X-Force killed you!” Wade says reverently. He imagines getting torn in half again, and it’s still just as undesirable as last time. Juggernaut doesn’t give a reply, which is a little bit worrying, bordering on incredibly bad. “Get out,” Wade hisses at Weasel and Dopinder. He turns and sees that they’re already gone. “Oh, good, youOUHMY –” 

Juggernaut smashes him into the bar, crashing through sixteen glasses and twelve bottles. It’s a vague estimate, since Wade doesn’t exactly have time to count. He coughs up broken glass as he heaves himself onto his elbows, X-Men t-shirt torn up. 

“Is that blood? Do I taste blood? That’s not fair. I didn’t even –” 

He spots his drink sitting on the bar counter still, untouched. “Oh.” 

He stands up behind the bar. “So this is what Weasel’s world is like, but more shortsighted.” 

Juggernaut is thrown off as something strikes him from behind. Wade watches out of the corner of his eye as Yukio comes in first through the hole in the wall, Negasonic not far behind her. He raises a fist. 

“Mutant power couple go!” 

He’s drowned out as Negasonic ducks a punch, which sends a chair smashing into the bar front, clattering the remaining intact glasses and Wade’s teeth in his head. He tries to save the rest of his drink, crouching behind the bar. Dust flies over his head. It’s strangely muffled, like an isolated shell, or maybe he’s just half-deaf from the amount of noise Juggernaut is making. He sees a flash of chrome through a hole in the bar and hears the connection as Colossus crashes into Juggernaut like a wrestler. Wade turns back to his drink. 

A suit lands on his head and almost knocks the glass from his hand. 

“Hurry up,” Domino says, but she’s grinning like it’s fun, and she disappears back again. Wade throws his drink back before throwing the glass down, smashing it with the rest of the debris. 

He tries to be badass but it takes him a good two entire minutes to pull his suit on, his leg getting stuck at one point. He eventually jumps up, mask on tight, swords in hand. Russell is behind Colossus, firing at Juggernaut. Wade points and shouts, “Is he allowed to be here?” 

“He gets one chance to prove himself!” Domino shouts back. 

“That just sounds like a very vague explanation!” 

Cable passes him, Big Fucking Gun in hand. The ground shakes as Juggernaut swings at Domino, misses inexplicably, and punches an even bigger hole in the wall. 

“Wow,” Wade says to Cable. “That’s barely even a wall anymore.” 

“Shut your damn mouth and contribute.” 

Outside the wall, the street is littered with wall bits and glass. Wade can see some idiots on their phones filming the fight. 

“You have to ask X-Force permission to use that!” he yells as he and Cable get out of the way of a tire Juggernaut has thrown. Cable throws a dirty _when-I-said-shut-up-I-meant-it_ look at Wade before firing, the blast strong enough to overbalance Juggernaut. Wade tries to see what setting the gun is on but Cable moves too quick, following the giant angry Magneto-Hulk ( _another Hulk joke! Strike one!_ ) outside. Domino jumps out of the huge grasping hand which tries to grab her, ending up in the middle of the road, a cement truck heading directly at her. Colossus makes a move to help but stops as the truck jackknifes, striking a car, tipping onto its side. The back part of the cement truck cracks vastly as it lands on the ground with a deafening crash, pouring out over Juggernaut. Colossus pulls Cable’s arm to get him out of the way and Wade can see the expression on his face. It says _I hate everyone on this entire fucking team, I can handle myself._ Wade almost laughs. 

Colossus leaves to hold Juggernaut in the cement as Russell heats it to dry it, and Wade catches Cable. As expected, he’s elbowed off. 

“Don’t be so afraid to ask for help,” Wade says. Cable’s face is restrained fury as he watches the struggle, pointing his gun at Juggernaut. They both oversee the scene. “I feel like this would never happen in the MCU.” 

“The what?” 

“You know, it’s almost like there’s no knowledge going into how these guys work at all.” 

Cable turns at him, brow furrowed. “You’re always saying shit that makes no sense and not explaining, and it’s really getting on my nerves.” 

“I thought I couldn’t break your breaking point?” _Hm. Too many ‘break’s in that sentence._

“I said _on_ my nerves, not past them.” 

“Those are two very similar things.” 

Wade looks back at Juggernaut. “Looks like he’s sealed. I’ll bet it’s canon he can’t be held for long, but for our sake, he’ll be trapped for a while.” 

Cable doesn’t reply. He’s putting lip balm on. Wade stares. Cable puts the tiny cap back on and swings his utility bag back around. Wade is still staring until Cable says, sounding remarkably pissed, “ _What?_ ” 

“Is lip balm seriously still a thing? I see people talking about the benefits of it but never actually using it. Except 90s B-listers and suburban moms. That might be lip gloss.” 

Cable starts walking away halfway and Wade follows. “Is it like Chapstick? I feel like Chapstick is a branded version of lip balm and we’re just keeping it ambiguous so it doesn’t seem sponsored.” 

“Keep walking, you talking scrotum.” 

“No, this pace is fine with me.” 

Wade finds himself walking alone, Cable stopping short so they split. He takes the hint and calls Weasel’s phone. He hears it ringing from behind some bins along the wall. He finds Weasel and Dopinder sitting on the ground. 

“So what’s this party?” he asks. They look up, startled. 

“We thought it was, uh, safer for you guys if we …” Weasel begins. 

“If we got out of the way,” Dopinder agrees. Wade cocks his head. 

“Is your cab alright?” 

“Uh …” Dopinder leans out behind the bin and sees his cab sitting untouched in the middle of the road. He looks back to Wade. “… yes?” 

“Can you give me a ride back?” 

Not long after, Wade is in the passenger seat of the cab, with a very dusty and glad-to-be-alive Dopinder. He’s not talking for once, busy in his thoughts about Cable. He’s going to commit to avoiding him and ignoring his own thoughts. 

The cab ride is very quiet and short. When they arrive back at the X-Base, Wade high-fives Dopinder, holding his hand for a beat. 

“Stay strong,” he whispers. Dopinder seems dazed. Wade feels a surge in his heart of love for his beautiful dedicated friend as he watches him drive away. 

He turns around to face the house and pulls his mask up off his face. Time to go crash on his bed and watch three entire seasons of CSI: Miami to take his mind off of his problems. _Well. Problem_. 

He turns on his laptop and types in the password to Negasonic the Hedgehog’s Netflix account. It takes six episodes for him to start drifting away from his problem. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Said problem is standing _right_ in his _fucking doorway_. 

Wade pulls his earbud out. “Sorry, do you want something?” 

Cable has that expression that’s half sad, half angry, a weird neutral which gives him a very ambiguous face. He leans against the door after pulling it close behind him. Wade takes his other earbud out and pauses his show. 

“What is this, the start of a porn?” 

Cable’s poker face doesn’t change. His voice is quiet. 

“Of everyone I’ve met in my time and this, you’re probably the worst.” 

“Is that a compliment, or …?” Wade trails off. Cable’s voice becomes louder, harsher. 

“And of all the _fucking_ people to try and get _me_ –” 

_Oh no._

“– in their _bed.”_

_Oh, shit._

“Why. Did it have. To be _you_.” 

“How the fuck do you – what have they been telling you?” 

Cable pauses. He shuts the door tight behind him. 

“I can see right through you.” 

Wade gasps, hands flying to cover his chest and crotch. “I knew your eye was magic!” 

“No, you fucking _idiot_ , not like that. I can tell what you’re thinking.” 

“What, like a trained cop?” 

“No, dumbshit, I can literally hear your thoughts. I’m telepathic.” 

_Oh, holy shitballs. I’m more fucked than –_

“Yeah, you are.” 

“Oh my god,” Wade says, fluttering horror growing. “You weren’t lying.” 

“Of course I wasn’t lying. What would I gain from lying about being telepathic?” 

“More power in the Marvel universe. Your own ex machina.” 

It sinks in. “You – heard it all. _All_ of it.” 

“Yes.” 

“You mean – the time that I –” 

“The time you were fantasizing about Fifty Shades outside? Yes, I fucking know about that, and those movies. Your media in this generation is terrible. Give me more credit than that.” 

“Hey, it’s a timeless romantic classic. Up there with Titanic.” 

Cable doesn’t seem particularly triumphant to have caught Wade out. He seems as ruggedly blank as always, which is unnerving. No indication of whether it bothers him. _Or not._

“Yeah, you can dream, Wilson.” 

“Can you _stop?_ It’s violating my brain. I’m gonna need a Magneto helmet. Is Juggernaut auctioning his?” 

Cable just hums like it constitutes as a reply, a short ‘hm’ which dismisses Wade’s question. He looks away. Wade stands up and closes his laptop. 

“I was watching Netflix,” he says. “You know what kind of TV it beats?” 

“I’m going to stop you there before you finish that,” Cable says. Wade tilts his head. 

“What, you can tell what I’m going to say and do before I do it, from my thoughts?” 

Cable frowns slightly. “I can’t tell the future, that’s not the same thing as telepathy.” 

_I’m going to regret this_ , Wade thinks. Cable’s brow furrows darkly. 

“What?” 

Wade kisses Cable. 

It’s fucking _awkward_. Cable doesn’t move and it isn’t an exaggeration. He literally stays completely still, though Wade expected a fist in his face. He quickly pulls back. 

“Fucking hell. Can we pretend that didn’t happen?” 

Cable just stays leaning on the doorway, arms crossed. Only his eyes move to look at Wade, eyebrow lifting slightly. It’s a look which could mean absolutely anything and now Wade wishes he was telepathic so he knew what it meant. 

“That felt like you haven’t kissed before,” Wade says, the silence too painful to keep going. 

“That felt like rubbing a dry foot on my face, so I guess we’re even.” 

“We could try again.” 

“ _Could_.” 

Wade shrugs. “Should, in my opinion.” 

Cable doesn’t reply for a while. Then he says, “you think about my arms a lot, and that’s strange.” 

“I think everybody does, but I’m more shameless.” 

“No, it’s just you.” 

Wade squints at him. “Are you stalling?” 

Cable doesn’t miss a beat. “Are you?” 

“No, I’m just being patient and stopping myself from aggressively making out with you.” 

Cable almost smiles, Wade swears, a flicker across his face that betrays the tiniest hint of amusement. It’s off-putting at the very least. But it isn’t explicitly a _no._

He can’t stop himself from kissing Cable again, open-mouthed like he used to Vanessa. For a guy who uses lip balm at the frequency he does, Cable’s mouth is still a kind of soft that throws Wade off. It's new and hot and so, so wrong, because, _this is Cable, this is a guy whose back I would rub sunscreen on, maybe dream about, but to be doing this – now –_

When he feels Cable kissing him _back_ , Wade's brain leaves his body entirely. That metal hand grasps his arm as he pulls on Cable’s shirt front, and he hears Cable breathe in through his nose as he leaves the doorway. His lips might be soft but Cable kisses _rough_ , and Wade has had his share of breathtaking makeout sessions, but this is something entirely new. 

Abruptly, Cable pushes away, and _fuck him_ , he’s either grinning or grimacing with that same glint in his eyes that Wade saw before their fight with the nameless gunman. 

“Don’t leave me hanging, Nate,” Wade says in an overly whining tone, and Cable points threateningly. 

“Call me that again, Wilson, and you die.” 

“Can I call you it when it’s just us?” 

Cable’s half second of silence seems like hesitation. 

“No,” he eventually says. Wade slumps. 

“You’re such a spoilsport. You didn’t even let me get handsy.” 

“Early stages.” 

Wade smiles slyly. “I bet you can turn that cyborg tech into tentacles.” 

“I’m not going to fuck you.” 

“Uh, it would be me fucking you.” 

Cable is silent for a long pause this time. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t work out either.” 

“Early stages?” 

“Don’t get your hopes up, this was probably a mistake.” 

Wade shrugs and then says, "Or, this could be a thing.” 

Cable stops at the door. 

“You left your chances to be with your wife again to save me. You can’t do that and then pull a no-homo.” 

Cable turns, and he has an unreadable expression. 

“You,” he says slowly, “want to date.” 

“That word is so teenager-y. We’re not Negakio.” 

“So what would you call it?” 

Wade smiles broadly. “Let’s be _lovers_. No, even better – _X-Lovers_.” 

“Ex-lovers? What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“No, X like X-Force. It can be a thing. You have Negasonic Teenage Torpedo with her girlfriend and I’m pretty sure Colossus and Domino can find partners and rope them into it.” 

“You just made it weird.” 

“Did I?” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Just lovers then?” Wade asks. Cable sighs. 

“I’m not calling you my lover, and you are definitely not calling me yours.” 

“Partner is too platonic, though. We have to think this through.” 

Wade moves subtly closer as he speaks, looping an arm around Cable’s neck and enjoying how tall it makes him feel. “But until then, I’m pretty sure we can find something better to do with our mouths than talk.” 

Cable is his normal heavy-browed self as he replies, “You feel like a brick and taste like day-old beer.” 

“Oh, Nate. You know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Y'all did see Juggernaut getting up at the end of DP2, right? ;) (also spot that Amazing Spider-Man ref?)  
> \- Also comic-canon Cable + Wade tentacle sex and the sunscreen dream is also a real thing so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> \- Title from Taylor Swift - Dress. I'm not even a TS fan but I can't deny she has good lyrics for my writing  
> \- Article: https://mic.com/articles/115482/there-s-an-awesome-stage-between-like-and-love-and-this-is-what-it-s-called#.3ABj08ssn  
> \- Cred. to my friend for calling Wade a 'talking scrotum' and James for sending me the cable TV joke! 
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING !!! This has more hits and love than I ever expected and I can't express how grateful I am ;-; 
> 
> This series is by no means over 'cause as I said, there's a Cable POV version in the works, and potential for other Cablepool fics in the future ;)*** 
> 
> Thank you for reading once again and I hope you enjoyed JBPBN!!! 
> 
> *** Cable companion piece CMM now out! :D


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